


On Your Knees for the Captain

by passing-fanciful (kageygirl)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:18:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,153
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageygirl/pseuds/passing-fanciful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aboard a ship, the captain is the ultimate authority.  Even on a pirate ship.  <i>Especially</i> on a pirate ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On Your Knees for the Captain

Emma keeps her neck bent as she kneels, the wooden floorboards unforgiving under her knees. The pirate captain circles her, his boots thudding sharply with each measured step.

"And what am I to do with _you_ ," he says, each word laced with soft menace. 

She can't suppress the tremor that runs through her, and hears him breathe out a laugh. "I'm guessing you know what the punishment for stowaways is, then," he says, continuing to pace. "A ship's stores are measured out quite carefully for her crew. It's bad form to deplete them without earning your keep."

"Please, sir," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. He stops moving, and she flattens her hands on her thighs to keep them still.

The toes of his boots enter her field of vision, and she hears the creak of leather as he crouches in front of her, sitting on his heels. He drags her hair out of her face with his hook, and uses two fingers to tip her chin up to look at him.

"You're pretty enough," he says, tapping his thumb on her chin as if in thought. His eyes are icy as he scans her face, and he pulls his hand back to wipe it over his own mouth. His eyes narrow, and then sweep down over her body. "I wonder if you're willing to work off your debt."

"What," she says, and stops to lick her lips. "What do you want me to do?"

His eyes linger on her mouth, a wicked smile playing about his own. He stands smoothly, and takes a few steps away to settle in a wooden armchair. He lounges back, watching her with hooded eyes, and spreads his hand and hook in an invitation as elegant as it is disreputable. "Give me one reason not to throw you to the sharks."

She stares at him, feeling her own eyes go wide and her breath coming quicker. She swallows, and then crawls across the floor to him, his eyes on her the whole time.

Taking a deep breath, she sets her palms against his leather gaiters, sliding her hands up past the cuffs and up to his knees. The leather is warm from the heat of his body, and she applies just a little pressure.

He lets his knees fall open, spreading his thighs, and she chances a look up at him. "In your own time, lass," he says, but the point of his hook taps against the arm of the chair less than a foot from her head.

The corners of his lips are curling up through his beard, and his eyes are dark and dissolute. She feels her body grow warm under the heat of his regard, and she drops her eyes again. She skates her palms up his thighs, feeling lean muscle under the leather, and he slouches lower, shifting his hips toward her.

She bites her lip, and then pushes away the bottom edges of his vest with the backs of her hands to get at the laces underneath. She's clumsier than she'd like, but soon enough his cock is filling her hand, half-hard already. He gives a faint grunt when she starts to stroke him and slides his left knee a bit wider.

She braces her free hand on his thigh and leans in, glancing up at him. His gaze is heavy-lidded, and he raises an eyebrow at her, but it's the smirk on his face that dares her to go on, and so she closes her mouth over him.

He exhales sharply through his nose, and she might have smiled herself, if she hadn't been otherwise occupied. She rubs her tongue firmly against the underside of his cock, feels his thigh clench and release, and sets about learning what else makes him react with lips and fingers and the wet heat of her mouth. 

She soon has him muttering into the quiet, curses and endearments both. She wraps her hand more firmly around him and shifts up to get a better angle, and her hair tumbles into her face. She reaches up to push it back, but he gets there first, his hand tangling it back out of the way. 

Instead, she reaches up under his vest, under his rucked-up shirt, and runs her hand over his taut stomach, warm and just a little damp with sweat. He anchors her hand there with his elbow, and she looks up at him as she swirls her tongue over the head of his cock.

His head is thrown back against the backrest of the chair, his lips parted, and she can see the flush spreading down his neck and over his exposed chest. His eyes are fixed on her, but when he sees her looking back, they fall shut, and he groans deep in his throat.

"You're bloody marvelous, darling," he says, and his fingers curl tighter into her hair.

"You're too kind, Captain," she murmurs, and licks a delicate line up his cock, from root to tip. She blows gently on him, surprises him into a shaky laugh, and then sucks him down hard, working her hand firmly over him.

" _Fuck_ ," he whispers, his hips twitching in an aborted jerk, and there's a scraping by her ear that might be his hook digging into the armrest. His fingers slip forward, his thumb grazing her cheek in short strokes, and then he's coming, spilling salty and hot in her mouth. "Emma," he breathes, and she looks up to see the fire in his eyes.

She swallows, and eases off when it gets to be too much for him. Wiping the back of her hand over her mouth, she leans back and smiles at him. "So, do I get to stay?"

"Bloody hell, woman, get up here," he says, a little breathlessly, and hauls her up with a hand around her upper arm (she's glad of the help; her knees are _not_ on the happy train). He pulls her into a deep, dirty kiss, and she sways into it, turned on and thirsty for his touch.

He rests his forehead against hers and chuckles against her lips. "You'd be running the ship within a week, love."

"Yeah?" she says, and nips at his neck, more sharply than she intends but his hand has slipped under her shirt and she wants more, now, please. "Would I get the perks, too?"

He grins up at her, bright and debauched. "Rank hath its privileges."

"Good," she says, and straightens up, offering him her hand. When he stands, she backs toward the bed, pulling him after her. "Then, get on it, sailor," she says, stopping when she bumps into the mattress.

"As my lady commands," he says, bowing his head, his eyes gleaming, and sinks to his knees.

(Wishing she'd thought of it earlier, she passes him a pillow. She can afford to be a benevolent dictator.)


End file.
